The Truth Is the Light

by Vanessa Davie Griggs

  She was thankful that God had kept her from flying off the handle with what she had just now learned was an incorrect conclusion.

  Chapter 47

  Lest Satan should get an advantage of us: for we are not ignorant of his devices.

  —2 Corinthians 2:11

  Pastor Landris didn’t look at the check or the envelope of money when he got home Sunday night. He’d placed both along with his check from his own church in his top drawer of his nightstand and spent the rest of the night doing things with his family. Mondays were his day off. He got up and ate a nice breakfast with Johnnie Mae and the children before they went to school. Johnnie Mae also took Mondays off, most days not even writing her book, unless of course she was under a heavy deadline and it couldn’t be avoided. Pastor Landris enjoyed his alone time with his wife.

  That was why their marriage worked so well. They spent time together and didn’t allow life to suck everything away from them being able to sow into each other’s lives. They had date nights and days, when he would ask her out, then treat her the way he did when he was trying to woo her before they were married. It wasn’t a matter of keeping her by doing what he’d done to get her. It was taking it to another level, and doing things with purpose, on purpose. That’s what he told those in his congregation who were married. He believed if you preach it, then you should be practicing what you preach.

  So, while Johnnie Mae was getting dressed for the day, he was getting his bank deposit slip ready, ensuring that he made copies of all checks, regardless of whether he would receive a W-2 or 1099 statement from a group at the end of the year or not. He kept meticulous records of every dollar he was given, no matter how large or small. It drove Stanley, his personal accountant, crazy.

  “We don’t need to record every single dollar someone gives you,” Stanley said in the beginning when he would get Pastor Landris’s weekly tally. Still, he kept on doing it.

  Pastor Landris opened the envelope with his salaried check from the church and wrote that amount on the deposit slip. He then opened the check he’d received from preaching at Divine Conquerors Church. His eyebrows rose when he saw the amount. One thousand dollars was more than he was expecting for speaking there.

  In fact, he hadn’t spoken there for the money at all. He was genuinely trying to meet Reverend Walker halfway so they could move to a better relationship. It didn’t bode well when preachers acted like the world, seemingly envious or jealous, unforgiving, and malicious in some of their actions. They were supposed to be an example to their family, to their flock, and to anyone in the world who just might be watching.

  Pastor Landris recorded that amount, then opened the envelope full of cash. The first bill was a hundred-dollar bill. The next bill was a hundred, and the next one . . . the exact same thing. With each shedding, there was a hundred-dollar bill beneath it. It was like peeling an onion—each layer, though different, was pretty much the same. When he saw that from start to finish there were nothing but hundreds, he started over, this time actually counting them as though they were ones. When he finished, there were two hundred hundred-dollar bills stuffed inside that one envelope: $20,000.

  “What’s wrong?” Johnnie Mae asked when she walked into the bedroom fully dressed in a gorgeous black and gold velveteen jogging suit and caught him pacing.

  “This,” he said, waving the envelope with the money inside.

  “What is it?”

  He pulled the money out and handed it to her. She looked and saw one-hundred-dollar bills throughout. “How much is this?” she asked, her hand over her heart to calm it.

  “Twenty thousand dollars.”

  “Are you sure?” she said, looking at it again. “Of course you’re sure.” She handed it back to him. “Where did that come from?”

  He put the money back inside the envelope and threw the envelope onto the bed. “Yesterday, after I finished preaching, Reverend Walker gave it to me.”

  “Why? Why would he give you that much money? Although I do personally know that some preachers, the mega preachers especially, are making even more than that to speak. But not cash. They’re not being paid in cash. At least, I don’t believe so.”

  “This is a setup, Johnnie Mae. I feel it in my spirit just as sure as I’m standing here. If you’re going to pay me that much money to speak, you wouldn’t pay it in untraceable cash. The church wrote me a check for a thousand dollars.”

  “Maybe Reverend Walker didn’t think it was enough,” Johnnie Mae said. “You know, he recognizes you’re larger than even you realize. Maybe when he saw that it was only a thousand dollars, he-he—” she stammered. “You’re right. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Well, at least you were trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.” Pastor Landris shook his head. “He’s up to something, and it’s not good. Well, I’m taking this money and giving it right back to him. If it’s a legitimate gift from someone, as he claimed it was, then he’s going to have to tell me who gave it to him. And I’m going to make certain that person knows I’m reporting every single dollar of this.”

  “Okay, Landris. You do what you feel you need to do,” Johnnie Mae said.

  “You’re not going to be mad at me, are you? For standing you up on our day out.”

  “No,” she said with a pleasant tone. She rubbed his arm with her hand. “You take care of your business. I’m with you all the way. We don’t need something like this hanging over our heads. If it is on the up-and-up, at least you need to have peace about it. If somebody really is trying to set you up, then slap a little Isaiah 54:17 on them. ‘No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper.’ The devil is a lie! He’s already defeated, in the name of Jesus.”

  Pastor Landris leaned down, caressed her face, then kissed his wife. “I love you so much,” he said. He kissed her again, then went and retrieved the envelope of money off the bed, smiled at her once more, winked, and left.

  Chapter 48

  Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels, unawares.

  —Hebrews 13:2

  Pastor Landris drove to the church only to learn that Reverend Walker also took off on Mondays. The secretary called Reverend Walker when Pastor Landris refused to make an appointment to see him upon his return to work. Pastor Landris insisted she get in contact with Reverend Walker somehow so he could speak with him today. He’d already called the numbers he had and left messages. He knew she would have a special way to get him.

  “Reverend Walker says he will be happy to see you tomorrow at ten. So, if you’ll come back then, he’ll be glad to talk to you,” the secretary said.

  “I need you to call him back on whatever number you just reached him on and tell him that it’s imperative that I speak with him now,” Pastor Landris said.

  “I’m sorry, Pastor Landris, but I can’t do that.”

  Pastor Landris frowned. “You can’t or you won’t?”

  “I can’t.” She instantly looked like she was about to cry. Her reaction didn’t go unnoticed by him. “Reverend Walker told me not to call him back unless the church was on fire.” She tried to make light of her statement by masking it with a smile.

  Pastor Landris calmed down. After all, it wasn’t her fault Reverend Walker was having her do this. It wasn’t fair to her for him to take out his frustration on her.

  Pastor Landris smiled to put her at ease. “Please tell Reverend Walker that I’ll see him first thing in the morning,” Pastor Landris said. “And you have a blessed day now.”

  “You too, Pastor. And Pastor Landris, I really enjoyed your sermon yesterday. My husband did, too. He said we might come and visit your church one of these days.”

  Pastor Landris put on a smile. It was hitting home why as Christians it was important to be angry and sin not. “You are certainly welcome to come and visit anytime you desire. We would be happy to have you,” he said.

  “Pastor Landris?” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “Reverend
Walker usually comes in around nine AM. I just thought you might like to know.”

  “Thank you, Sister . . . ?”

  “Greer. It’s Katrina Greer.”

  “Well, I thank you, Sister Greer. I hope I didn’t completely ruin your day. But if I did, please accept my humblest apology.” Pastor Landris placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head to her slightly.

  “Oh, no,” she said, smiling and shaking her head. “In fact, I’m honored I got to talk with you today. You’re a powerful minister, Pastor Landris. Please continue to preach God’s Word the way that you do. Don’t let the devil stop you or try to take you down. You just keep on preaching the God-Heaven truth. God’s got your back.”

  Pastor Landris nodded as he smiled at her once more. She definitely has a way with words, he thought. “I’ll do that, Sister Greer,” he said. “I’ll continue preaching the God-Heaven truth.” He then left.

  Chapter 49

  She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.

  —Proverbs 31:12

  Gabrielle and Zachary went to see The Color Purple on Friday. The Broadway hit show was just as wonderful as Gabrielle imagined it would be. She and Zachary laughed and played around when they went to eat afterward. Zachary truly made her happy. And the way he lovingly looked at her when he thought she wasn’t looking told her that she did the same for him.

  “Now, are you ready to tell me what spooked you?’ Zachary said. They sat in a booth in the restaurant, opting to share a deep dark chocolate brownie topped with a large scoop of vanilla ice cream and lava-looking chocolate sauce oozing down its sides instead of each tackling an individual one.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gabrielle leaned in as she took her long-handled spoon and scooped a bite, carefully placing it in her mouth.

  “You know what I’m talking about,” Zachary said as he allowed the ice cream and chocolate mixture to melt in his mouth while refusing to take his eyes off Gabrielle.

  “Zachary, I hate guessing games. I always have. That’s why I don’t care to play Jeopardy.”

  “What? You mean you don’t like Jeopardy? Woman, is something wrong with you? Who doesn’t like figuring out what the question is based on the answer?” he teased.

  She shook her head and laughed. “You’re right. What is wrong with me?” She took another bite.

  “Well, at least I got you to laugh. Okay, so you don’t feel like guessing what I’m talking about. Then allow me to get straight to it. Before we went to my parents’ home, you and I were fine . . . great. I could feel the love growing between us.”

  She pulled her now-empty spoon from out of her mouth. “Is that right?”

  “That’s right. Even after we got there, you and I were doing great. You went to see Aunt Esther, and by the way my father says she’s progressing fantastically since we came. So much so that her doctor is starting to believe prayer really can change things. That’s what Aunt Esther told him when he asked her what happened: love and prayer.”

  Gabrielle tilted her head softly and looked into his eyes. “I’m so thankful that you brought me and Miss Crowe back together. I didn’t really know just how much I needed to see her. It was like having a story told and being left to hang, unable to read the next chapter. I knew she’d been in an accident, but I didn’t know if she was alive or dead. When I finally learned that she was alive, I still wanted to look in her face myself. Then her asking me to dance for her like that. My goodness!” Gabrielle quickly started fanning back her tears. She held her head back, then straight. “Thank you so much for doing that.”

  “Okay, so we agree that you going to Chicago with me was a good thing. You visiting with my aunt was also a good thing. So tell me: where did things break down?”

  Gabrielle thought about the conversation she had with his mother. “I didn’t realize things had broken down,” she flubbed. “You and I have our lives to lead. You with your practice and emergency hospital calls, and me being named the director of the Dance Ministry and leading it the way Johnnie Mae believes I can do. You also know that I’m still doing housekeeping work at that house. There’s just a lot going on these days.”

  “Why don’t you quit working at that house?”

  She pulled back. “Why? Because you think my cleaning someone else’s house is beneath me?”

  “No.” He shook his head as he released an exasperated sigh. “Because that’s a lot to be doing when you’re trying to organize a ministry and do all the other things you do. You attend Dance Ministry meetings on Tuesday nights, Bible study on Wednesday nights, church on Sunday mornings, and church staff meetings now when they have them on a Sunday night. And that’s when you aren’t attending a baby christening and/or a baptism on Sunday nights. Now you’re in charge of the Dance Ministry, which requires you to do administrative work as well as deciding and approving what routines will be performed. That’s a lot to do in addition to going and cleaning someone else’s house Monday through Friday, for what . . . eight hours a day, not counting commute time.”

  “Well, what about you? You have your own practice, plus you’re on call if something happens that requires you to come in, like yesterday. You go to Wednesday night Bible study and Sunday morning worship service, and sometimes you’ve been at the hospital all day, or in many cases through the night and early into the morning.”

  “Okay, I see what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to divert the conversation away from my original question.”

  “I wasn’t trying to do that. You were the one who said I should quit my housekeeping job as though there was some dishonor or disgrace in that kind of work.”

  “That was not what I was implying. But for some reason that’s striking a nerve with you, which means maybe that’s where some of the truth lies,” Zachary said. He took her left hand. “Okay, let’s try it this way. Did you tell my mother things about your life?”

  “Zachary, let’s just drop this, okay?”

  “Yes or no. Did she get you to tell her things about your life like maybe when she corralled you into the kitchen or when she got you alone at some point? It’s a yes or no question.”

  “Yes,” Gabrielle said.

  “Did my mother say something to you about your cleaning other people’s houses? Yes or no.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You can keep the commentaries. All I want is a yes or no answer.” He licked his lip, then bit down on it. “Did you tell her about what you used to do prior to being a maid . . . a housekeeper?”

  “Zachary, we really need to go. You know I have folks in my house. And the way they treat people’s things, it will be a miracle if I still have a house standing when I get back. You know if they don’t respect their own things, they sure don’t think anything about anyone else’s.”

  “Did you tell my mother what you did before this year? Yes or no.”

  “Yes.” She pushed the bowl with the remaining dessert toward him, pulled her hand out of his, and picked up her purse. “Can we please go now?”

  He grabbed her hand again. “Gabrielle, did my mother tell you or imply that you weren’t good enough for me?”

  “Zachary, please, can we just go?”

  “After you answer my question.”

  She pulled back from him. “You can’t keep me here against my will.”

  “Gabrielle, I’m not trying to keep you anywhere against your will. All I’m trying to do is find out what happened with us after we went to Chicago, you seeing my aunt, and the sudden change in temperature between us that, ironically, seemed to have occurred the afternoon I came back and found you and my mother huddled up in an intense conversation in the living room. . . .” He fell back, then slowly rubbed his hands together.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” Zachary said, leaning forward. “When I came in, she was telling you that you needed to break things off with me. That’s what she was telling you when I walked in that day. And you actually listened to her.” He sounded disappoi
nted.

  Gabrielle moved back toward him. “Zachary, it wasn’t like that. Your mother loves you. Dearly. She only wants the best for you. You know that.”

  “So, you agree with her.” He frowned as he looked intensely, but lovingly, at her.

  “What do you mean I agree with her?”

  “You agree that you’re not the best for me. You agree that I don’t know what I’m doing by being with you. You’re questioning my judgment and my ability to know what’s right for me and what’s not. You think I’m irresponsible in my decision making.”

  “See, now you’re just trying to twist things around. You’re a great doctor, and you know that. All I said was that your mother wants you to have the best in life, and the best possible life. I want you to have the best possible life as well. In that respect, then yes . . . your mother and I absolutely do agree.”

  Zachary scooted toward the end and stood up. “Sure. I understand. So . . . you’re ready to go home? I’ll take you home then. I wouldn’t want to keep you somewhere you don’t want to be.” He held out his hand to assist her in getting up. “Never let it be said that I had to kidnap a woman in order for her to be with me.”

  “Zachary—”

  “Was everything to your satisfaction?” the fiery, red-haired waitress said.

  “Everything was wonderful,” Zachary said, having already placed the money inside the black padded folder, with a more-than-generous tip. “And now, I must escort this lovely woman home.”

  Chapter 50

  For which I am an ambassador in bonds: that therein I may speak boldly, as I ought to speak.